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You're listening to a morbid network podcast. Listen as I launch a campaign against Christmas cheer, grilling celebrity guests, like chestnuts on an open fire.

They'll try to get my heart to grow a few sizes, but it's not going to work, honey.

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On a summer day in 1709, as the sun's rays stretched waves of sweltering heat on France, King

Louis the 14th found his gaze lost in the eager flames crackling in the councilroom fireplace.

Beeds of sweat formed along his hairline and trickle down his face.

As his mind was swept away in memories of events

he'd likely not thought of in years.

Louis was a man of 70 now, and his life had been a potent mix of hedonism and piety.

His dualist nature, though having provided him a life which had been anything but dull, often

led to moments of regret and shame, holding a worn black leather box in his aged hands, the papers within represented his weakness,

and for a man fixated on glory and power, such evidence of his failings simply could not be allowed to

outlive him.

The King's former mistress, Madame de Montezpane, had been dead for two years, and the man who had once

been the chief of the Paris police, the man who led the investigation into the affair of

the poisons, Nicholas L'eragnay had also recently died, and with

his death, the official documents of the investigation were left for the king to sort through, even as the pang of past mistakes

pricked his recollection. The records from decades past included the testimony of several individuals claiming

Madame de Montezpane had attempted murder as well as participate in black magic

...